


Here Comes The Sun

by waitingtobelit



Series: with starry feet [6]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beaches, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius, Enjolras, and Joly attempt to study peacefully while avoiding the sun. Bahorel and Grantaire have other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I honestly just wanted ridiculous beach fluff, thus, this story.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables. This was written purely for recreational purposes only.

“You’re all wimps, the lot of you.”

Bahorel stands with his arms across his chest, glaring daggers at the three of them underneath the sole beach umbrella.

The sun shines from between the occasional clouds, and yet even beneath the shade of the umbrella Marius feels the scalding gaze of it on the edge of his skin as his bare feet sink into the burning sand. Besides refusing to leave the protection of the umbrella, he also took precautions with sunscreen and an old, light blue polo shirt constantly threatened by Courfeyrac’s disapproving gaze. (“I’m going to burn it while you sleep.” He always whispers just before all but ripping it off Marius.) He can at least minimize the damage from his inevitable sunburn even if he cannot avoid it outright.

At least the humidity is manageable enough so that the myriad of people frolicking in the waves doesn’t appeal as much to him. (Yet he still finds himself glancing longingly at them anyway.)

“It’s self-preservation, actually.” Joly replies from behind his medical textbook. “I don’t do well in the sun.”

“Same.” Marius agrees, eyes darting as his pen glances across the college-lined pages while he balances a book of Latin poetry in his other hand. “I don’t so much burn as much I turn full lobster.”

He doesn’t exaggerate. Last year he came home from the beach red from his forehead to the very tips of his toes. He turned so red he glowed, like a cheap lava lamp. Courfeyrac spent a good ten minutes laughing at him, almost falling off his chair before taking pity and bringing Marius the aloe vera.

“And what’s your excuse then?” Bahorel turns to the third member of the group, Enjolras, who sits to the right of Marius as he reads over his shoulder.

“Marius is helping me with these Latin phrases.” The blonde responds without lifting his eyes from the page. “I’m trying to find new inspiration for speeches.”

“A bunch of ridiculous dorks, the lot of you.” Bahorel scoffs, shaking his head so that his long, brown hair flickers in the light breeze like a waving flag.

“Talk to us tomorrow when you run out of aloe vera.” Enjolras retorts, his voice like that of a child seconds away from sticking out his tongue.

Bahorel waves it off as he turns to rejoin Courfeyrac and Grantaire splashing around in the waves. Marius waits until Enjolras focuses back on his work before continuing his translation. He knows that Enjolras burns just as much as himself and Joly. He also knows their leader is too stubborn to admit to such vulnerability, so he says nothing though the temptation to call him out for it is overwhelming.

After a rather dour meeting two nights ago, Cosette, in her usual way of trying to rouse everyone’s spirits, had suggested the trip to the beach to allow for everyone to have the chance to unwind. Eponine jumped on board immediately, arguing that it had been too long since they all had last seen the sun. Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Grantaire joined in with boisterous enthusiasm as well. Marius kept quiet as Joly sighed. Combeferre and Feuilly both politely declined, citing a vast amount of work put off for too long. Musichetta refused only because of a prior engagement with a former professor. In spite of his vehement protests about distractions, Enjolras found himself vastly outnumbered. He sits almost quietly next to Marius now, though he seems unable to stop sighing.

Girlish giggling beckons to him from the far left, causing Marius to lift his head from his notebook. He turns to find Cosette, Eponine, Jehan and Gavroche embroiled in a ridiculous yet intense game of volleyball. Eponine and Cosette leap around with no inhibitions in their bathing suits that emphasize every curve of their bodies. This occasionally gives them an advantage, when Jehan spends too long gazing at Cosette like a poet gazing at the stars, his cheeks blooming like rose petals whenever she meets his gaze with a blushing grin of her own. Eponine, ever the opportunist, manages so that Cosette is closest to Jehan on the opposite side of the net as often as possible, leaving Jehan with a head full of volleyball every few minutes. Marius can’t help but shake his head and laugh quietly to himself, fully appreciative to not be the lone person with their head in the clouds. (Though, granted, Jehan’s clouds are more Cosette-shaped than his own, which tend to resemble Courfeyrac’s wild grin and reckless eyes.)

“Marius.” Enjolras’ stern voice, as familiar to him as an overplayed song on the radio, brings his attention back to beneath the umbrella. In truth, he really would rather be frolicking in the sand and the waves along with everyone else, much as he might pay the price for it later in the day. He didn’t exaggerate when he explained to Bahorel his lobster situation. He inherited such a gift from a long line of ancestors unused to the sun beyond a few, flickering tendrils through their opulent study windows. As much as he might yearn to join the others, he also prefers not peeling dead skin off for several weeks.

“Come on.” Enjolras, picking up on Marius’ distraction, attempts to keep him in line and cheer him up all at once, an odd combination typically reserved for Marius, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and sometimes Grantaire. “Think of all the potential minds these words will help us convert! Think of how you’re helping to structure a speech…”

Marius smiles feebly in his turn, letting Enjolras’ words wash over him like the spray from the waves that occasionally glances his cheeks. He is grateful at least not to be alone under the umbrella.

They remain like that for another hour in peace; basking in the shadows as the sounds of everyone else’s joy flits around them like chattering birdsong. Marius eventually loses himself again in his work, translating phrases before explaining their meaning and structure to Enjolras. Joly next to them occasionally lets out a contented sigh, immersed as he is in his own work. The quiet camaraderie combined with the heat from the sun lulls Marius into a state of half-awareness; he takes in the flicker of turning pages as the approaching sound of eager footsteps washes entirely over his head.

“Yeah, this is bullshit.”

Marius looks up just in time to catch a drenched Grantaire dripping over Enjolras with a wicked grin. Before any of them can so much as blink, Grantaire moves like lightning, tossing Enjolras over his shoulder and bounding away with all the eagerness of an overly pleased puppy. As Enjolras shouts obscenities and struggles against Grantaire’s grip, Grantaire merrily brings him in the direction of the ocean.

Marius, gaping in shock, barely manages to comprehend what he just witnessed as a strong arm wraps around him from behind and lifts him up and over an equally sturdy shoulder. He has time only to attempt to shout as his books fall from him, sprawling open into the sand. He starts as Joly makes a similar noise next to him. He tilts his head to find Joly squirming over the other shoulder of the man who holds them both. Marius recognizes Bahorel by the shark like smirk he dons with pride as he strides out from beneath the umbrella.

“I didn’t sign up for this!” Joly moans as Bahorel heads into a run towards the water.

“We’re at the beach. Of course you did!” Bahorel cheerfully informs him as he manhandles the pair of them with ease. Marius attempts to struggle but Bahorel’s grip is legendary, and clamps down on him like an iron shackle. He groans as he feels the sun sink into the exposed skin of his face. He slumps in resignation.

“That’s the spirit, Pontmercy!” Bahorel, seemingly filled with a limitless supply of energy and cheer, chuckles.

“I’m going to catch something.” Joly grumbles though Marius notices that he, too, has given up all hope of escape by the way his arms dangle uselessly over Bahorel’s back.

“Who knows? With Bossuet’s luck rubbing off on you, maybe you’ll catch a shark!” Bahorel continues to chuckle, even as the hills of sand appear to grow thicker beneath his feet. Marius marvels that Bahorel is not even out of breath. He thinks he might hate him a little for it.

“A shark!?” Joly squeaks and Marius tries not to think about it, for the sake of his own nerves.

The scent of salt overwhelms him as Bahorel plows through the water, sending up flickers of water that often catch Marius right in the eye. He closes both of them in preparation for the inevitable.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me.” Bahorel pauses before gracelessly heaving the pair of them headfirst into the water.

Marius chokes on saltwater and flails as he inhales it through his nose at the same time. His shirt floats around him as he kicks and struggles to right himself in the water, attempting to gain a bearing on his surroundings.

He just about gets himself above water, treading steadily, when an enthusiastic pair of arms pull him back abruptly. He coughs as the saltwater spray of his flailing lands in his mouth and a familiar nose presses into the back of his neck.

“Wee lamb! So glad you decided to join us!” Courfeyrac nuzzles him with a laugh.

“Was that your idea or Bahorel’s?” Marius manages to sputter out as Courfeyrac swings him around in the water with all the violence of a child dangling a stuffed animal as they spin.

“Grantaire’s.” Eventually, Courfeyrac slows enough to allow Marius to catch his breath, pressing his lips into Marius’ disarrayed hair and stroking his fingers up his arms.

“Why are you even wearing a shirt on a day like today, anyway?” Courfeyrac eyes him critically as he snakes one hand up his shirt. Marius jolts at the touch, breath catching when he feels Courfeyrac’s grin against the back of his neck. As Courfeyrac begins peppering indulgent, open-mouthed kisses across his freckled skin like a child connecting dots with a marker, Marius leans back farther so that Courfeyrac is the only force keeping him afloat. Marius finds himself lulled into a trance by the water around him and the gentle rhythm of Courfeyrac’s kisses, so that he does not recognize the sensation of buttons coming undone until Courfeyrac lifts his arms and all but rips the garment from his body.

“Hey!” He protests as Courfeyrac balls the discarded shirt in his hands before tossing it as hard as he can into the distance. Marius can only watch as the waves gradually swallow the faded blue fabric.

“It was falling apart at the seams and you’ve had it since I first met you.” Courfeyrac states bluntly as he spins Marius to face him. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything.” Marius grumbles as he avoids meeting Courfeyrac’s gaze.

“I can and I will. Now, hush so I can give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Courfeyrac pulls him forward and drowns out any further protestations with an all-consuming kiss. Marius tangles his hands in Courfeyrac’s dark curls as Courfeyrac holds him up by the waist. They remain like that for a good minute before Courfeyrac, with his trademark smirk, catches Marius by surprise and dips him, parting his lips with his tongue. Marius can’t help but squeak and jump further into his arms as Courfeyrac reaches around to grope him.

“You know, there are children present.” Bahorel swims over to them still wearing his manic grin.

“Eh, it’s nothing they’re not going to see later in life anyway.” Courfeyrac waves him off as he continues kissing Marius.

“Also, you owe me for fetching your boy for you.” Bahorel says, treading water as he rolls his eyes at the pair of them.

“Yeah, yeah. Later. I’m teaching Marius how to have fun at the beach.” Courfeyrac waggles his eyebrows as he leans his forehead against Marius’, causing him to blush and laugh as Bahorel continues to roll his eyes.

“As long as your ‘fun’ doesn’t involve me coming across you two in the dunes or something.” He grumbles, though he’s still smiling.

“Well, it wasn’t, but now you’ve gone and given me fantastic inspiration!” Courfeyrac answers with a knavish grin. Marius rolls his eyes but feels the flush spread throughout his face all the same. Bahorel groans and covers his face in one hand.

“I don’t need to see that much of either of you ever again.” He groans from behind his calloused fingers, as Marius buries his own head in Courfeyrac’s neck at the memory of that night Bahorel walked in on them at Joly’s apartment. It has only been two weeks since the incident, and Marius still squirms at the memory of the look on Bahorel’s face.

“Anyway, my real point in swimming over here besides protecting the innocent was to se if you were both up for a friendly game of water tag.” Bahorel finally drops his hand to the water to stare them down with hopeful eyes.

Marius’ chest tightens as he recalls what exactly defines a “friendly game” of anything with Bahorel. Courfeyrac, in response to his tensing shoulders, pulls him closer and kisses him on the cheek. Marius almost relaxes.

The last time Bahorel managed to convince Marius to play any sort of game had been only a month ago, for a “friendly” round of rugby. He’d promised the game would be clean, fun, and that absolutely no one would get hurt. Twenty minutes into the game, Marius wound up with a broken nose, Bossuet with a bloody knee, and Grantaire in the hospital with a slight concussion. Bahorel had deemed the occasion a great success. (At the very least, having Courfeyrac to tend to his injuries made the intense pain worth it, in the end.)

“I’m going to have to insist on some kind of agreement that discourages an abundance of violence.” Courfeyrac looks pointedly at Bahorel as Marius unconsciously brings a hand up to run at his nose.

“Aw, come on. The violence is the best part!” Bahorel pouts, splashing at Courfeyrac with determination.

“Bahorel, we’re not all built like Thor.” Marius speaks up from within Courfeyrac’s embrace. “My nose is still recovering from last time.”

Bahorel preens like a cat at the mention of Thor. “But breaking a nose is an experience! Like life itself! You can’t just sit on the sidelines because it’s safer. Where’s the fun in that?”

Courfeyrac gives him his best mother hen stare of disapproval for a good minute before Bahroel relents.

“Alright, fine.” He scowls a bit. “You two are as fun as an old married couple.”

Courfeyrac beams as Marius burns an even brighter shade of red beneath the sun.

 

\---

 

Much to the surprise of well, everyone, Bahorel manages to refrain from inciting any riots in the water. He splashes about with all the grace of an ogre, and once accidentally splashes an eight year old boy. Yet he avoids invoking the wrath of the boy’s mother through his charming, slightly weather-worn smile and crinkling eyes that never cease to radiate warmth like that of the sun. For as often as Bahorel seems to get himself into scrapes, he is perfectly capable of getting himself out of them with minimal amounts of violence. Sometimes.

Jehan, Cosette, Eponine, and Gavroche drop the volleyball in favor of the water as soon as Gavroche notices the stirrings of the game. Bahorel and Grantaire, while they play, cheer as their numbers grow; Enjolras grumbles in his own little corner of water as Joly and Courfeyrac flee with haste, fully caught up in the chaos of the game.

Now that he is fully immersed in the water, Marius forgets his previous worries about his skin (though he can feel his shoulders sizzle like bacon in the heat of the afternoon sun) and finds pleasure in frolicking about with his friends, particular as he makes use of one of his most honed skills.

Swimming comes naturally to him, having lessons when he was younger and growing up in a manor with a pool most of his life. What he lacks in grace on his own two feet on land, he makes up for in the fluidity of his motions in the water. He functions as a fairy tale in reverse order, transforming into a graceful creature once he relinquishes his awkward gait in favor of his more confident backstrokes.

As a child, Marius found a kind of wilderness as he cut through the water with his frantic strokes. With no one to yell at him in the water, unless his grandfather stepped out of his study to demand Marius’ presence by his side, Marius found another means of employing his desire for recklessness. Though he was always supervised, Marius felt as though he were flying underneath the water, enduring the chlorine as he opened his eyes and pushed himself to swim faster. Whenever he felt depleted, he gained more energy when he imagined the proud smile of his father within the patterns at the bottom of the pool.

He took up swim team in school, an activity that both and he and his grandfather agreed upon. In the water, Marius found relief from the pressures of adolescence and the demands of his grandfather. His grandfather cherished the accolades he collected in various competitions. Marius threw everything of himself into the water when he failed to reconcile with his father before he died.

Though not as strong of a swimmer as before because of his work schedule and lack of access to a pool, Marius’ previous experience comes in handy as he swerves and doges his friends in their desperate attempts to tag him. He manages to make an escape just as Jehan falls victim to Joly’s determined hand and begins to prowl anew, aiming for Enjolras.

Currently, at a safe distance, Marius treads water, watching Jehan catch a Bahorel caught between Eponine and Gavroche with an all-knowing grin. Bahorel groans good naturedly before giving chase to Eponine, who swims quickly away. She makes a mistake in pausing to look back, and in this moment of hesitation, Bahorel catches her by the shoulder.

Eponine promptly targets Cosette, who tries to employ Jehan as a human shield. Jehan, almost as lithe and nimble as Marius, anticipates this and abruptly makes towards Joly before disappearing under the water. Cosette scowls but manages to avoid Eponine for a few moments. Eponine looks positively demonic as she catches up to Cosette, reaching out for her golden hair with a grin fit for a gargoyle adorning her face. Cosette, however, proves too clever and manages to latch herself like a barnacle onto Grantaire, who splutters and flails before Eponine’s hand lands square on his chest.

“Goddamn it, Cosette.” He curses as Cosette, Eponine, and Enjolras next to him fling themselves as far away as possible.

Marius ducks down further in the water to keep himself out of sight.

“I was wondering where our little merman had floated off to.” Jehan’s gentle voice makes him almost jump out of both the water and his skin. Marius never even saw him remerge.

“Oh, you know. Just catching my breath, as it were.” Marius replies, breath coming in ragged after the shock Jehan gave him. He squirms at the glint that continues to expand in Jehan’s eyes.

“Is that so?” Jehan adopts his Disney prince voice just as Marius turns and darts in the opposite direction.

“He’s over here!” He shouts as Marius curses under his breath and propels himself through the water faster.

He should have anticipated sabotage of some kind. Jehan, for all his poetry and virtues, nurtures the habit of cheating at Monopoly and manipulating words in such a way as to cause his friends (mostly Marius) to blush scarlet in public. He is never malignant, of course, only slightly impish. He delights in mischief, never in misery. (For this reason, Jehan is listed as Puck in Marius’ phone.) Marius can feel his grin against the heated skin of his back.

He hears the others catching up to him through their increased movements in the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of damp gold but thinks nothing more of it. Mere seconds later, as he pauses to catch his breath, he does not recognize Enjolras in time as he rises behind him like some hybrid, oceanic creature out of a cheap sci-fi movie and shoves him into the water with the sheer force of his body. Marius wonders when he missed Grantaire tagging Enjolras.

Marius flails as he swallows more water at his friend’s abnormal exuberance that almost drowns him. Enjolras apparently failed to get the memo about toning down the violence.

Marius manages to right himself, gulping down air as he tries to rid his mouth of salt. Enjolras swims around him to look him straight in the eye.

“You’re it.” He declares like a grand pronouncement before swimming madly back to the others who promptly follow his lead.

It takes Marius almost a minute to realize he’s been dragged back into the game. He starts to swim while contemplating which of his friends to target first. He does owe Jehan for his betrayal, but he seems too much the obvious choice for Marius’ liking. Cosette, though not a fast swimmer, always manages to hide herself behind other people, a habit she claims she formed from watching her father in her childhood. Eponine puts up one hell of a fight; including dirty tactics such as hair pulling and flinging water directly into her opponents’ eyes, but ultimately swims no faster than Cosette. Marius knows better than to go after Gavroche; he still sports a bruise on his left knee from last month just from playing hide and seek with the kid. Enjolras proves a tempting target, but as the golden-haired boy catches up and moves behind Grantaire as a human shield, Marius thinks the better of it.

Joly, Bahorel, and Courfeyrac all huddle together closest to the shore in a kind of semi-circle. Marius aims for Joly though he keeps his gaze locked on Courfeyrac. Bahorel catches sight of him and taps his companions on their shoulders. They scatter like leaves beneath dragging feet. Joly guns for Cosette and Eponine as Bahorel heads for deeper water. Courfeyrac attempts to flee by passing Marius by, which works well for what Marius has in mind.

Marius again slips under the water as easily as if he were slipping under bedcovers, enduring the salt burning at his eyes as he pushes himself directly underneath Courfeyrac just as he pauses to tread water. Marius waits for a few seconds as Courfeyrac’s movements slow, as he lulls himself into a false sense of security. Marius allows himself a small smile before maneuvering himself to push up through the water, surfacing just in front of Courfeyrac, who nearly jumps out of his skin. Marius plans to embed the look of utter shock in his eyes in his mind for as long as he has memory.

Without hesitating or touching any other part of Courfeyrac, Marius leans in and quickly presses their lips together. The smacking of their kiss echoes briefly amid the choir of wailing seagulls and sloshing waves around them.

“Tag.” Marius pulls back just before Courfeyrac can wrap his arms around him. “You’re it.”

He flips with all the grace of a gymnast to head off in the opposite direction just as Courfeyrac comes to his senses.

“That was dirty, Pontmercy.” Courfeyrac shouts at his back. Marius can’t help but preen at the pride underlying his voice just as Courfeyrac catches up to him in turn, arms sliding under his own to pull him back and spin him around against his chest. Marius’ breath lodges in his throat, and before he can form any kind of response, Courfeyrac employs his own technique against him, kissing him with more insistence and greater fervor.

“You’re it.” Courfeyrac pulls away with a deliberate slowness, fixing Marius with that gleam in his eyes that always conjures the blush to his face and the breath from his lungs. Marius forgets in the moment what game, exactly, they are supposed to be playing as he grabs onto Courfeyrac and pulls him forward once more.

They keep pulling at each other, mumbling “tag” against each others’ lips until the word dissolves first into indistinct mumbling and then into gentle groans. Marius tugs at Courfeyrac’s curls as Courfeyrac wraps his arms around his waist, holding Marius against him. Their lips part gradually as they sink further into each other.

They completely disregard everything about the outside world but themselves. They never hear Cosette’s quiet giggling just as they ignore Jehan’s growing smirk until Marius and Courfeyrac both find themselves overwhelmed by a multitude of rapid waves coming from all around them. They pull apart as they struggle back against the ongoing attack.

“This is us passing the mantle of ‘most obnoxious couple’ on to you.” Cosette informs them once her and Jehan clasp their hands together and at last relent.

“I feel accomplished?” Marius sputters once he rids his mouth of salt water for the millionth time that day.

“You should.” Eponine says as she swims up to join them. “They upheld that title for two years now.”

“And now it’s ours. I feel very accomplished, indeed.” Courfeyrac drapes one arm around Marius’ shoulders before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Marius promptly blushes as Eponine pretends to gag.

“Between the four of you and Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet, I’m not sure I can survive the rest of summer.” She rolls her eyes just as Marius leans into Courfeyrac to return his kiss.

“You’ll meet someone someday and then it’ll be us gagging over you.” Jehan predicts as Eponine shakes her head.

“Nah. I’m not that worried about it. Besides, we should all gang up on the rest of the guys. They’re looking awfully content over there.” She gestures to where Bahorel, Grantaire, Enjolras, and Joly all linger close to the shore, chatting relatively calmly with Gavroche. Marius watches as Eponine catches her younger brother’s eye and nods. Gavroche returns the gesture with a slight tilt of the head before moving into a sudden flip to distract the rest of the group.

“Look at him. The kid’s a natural.” Courfeyrac observes, lightly squeezing Marius’ shoulders. Marius leans into him, resting his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

“He learns from the best.” Cosette beams at Eponine who ducks her head a bit before returning the smile. Marius has never known Eponine to be bashful towards anyone except for Cosette.

“I don’t like to brag, but…”

“I hate to be ‘that guy’ but we’re wasting time!” Jehan speaks up as Gavroche glances back at them in between a succession of flips. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Absolutely I’m doing this.” Eponine nods as she poises to take off.

“Yes, let’s go!” Cosette winds up leading them all as she starts to swim away. Marius and Courfeyrac part in order to follow suit.

“This,” Courfeyrac mutters as he grips Marius’ hand briefly, “ought to be good.”

 

\---

 

“Oh God. Everything hurts.” Marius moans as he stumbles into his apartment with Courfeyrac sometime after eight in the evening. His entire being radiates with the force of the sunburn that covers almost every inch of his skin.

“Not as bad as last year, though. Look on the bright side!” Courfeyrac mumbles into his hair as he snakes his arms around Marius. Marius winces at the contact even as he savors the familiar comfort.

“Easy for you to say, Sir Tans A Lot.” Marius grumbles as he pulls out of Courfeyrac’s grasp.

“Ouch. Your sunburn can’t hurt as much as that terrible attempt of a play on words.” Courfeyrac leans in and steals a kiss as Marius’ pout deepens. Courfeyrac laughs.

“Aw wee lamb. Hold tight, I’ll take care of you!” Courfeyrac promises as he bounds away to the bathroom with all the enthusiasm of a woodland creature.

Marius leans against their counter while he waits, flinching as his arms come to rest against the cool surface.

Courfeyrac returns a few moments later, the familiar bottle of aloe vera upheld in his right hand. Marius pushes himself off the counter to make his way over to Courfeyrac, hand outstretched to receive the bottle. Courfeyrac pulls his hand back, much to Marius’ confusion.

“Ah, ah. And let you have all the fun?” Courfeyrac’s gaze roams hungrily over Marius’ body, inspiring more heat to his already burning face. Marius gulps and follows Courfeyrac as he begins walking backwards in the direction of their bedroom.

“Oh.” Courfeyrac adds, pausing to gesture to the swim shorts still clinging to Marius with a smirk. “Lose those. You won’t be needing them.”


End file.
